


Candy Cane Lane

by metchaky



Series: Candy Cane Lane [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gingerbread Houses, Holidays, M/M, Schmoop, Thanksgiving, deancasweek secret santa 2013, suburban life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metchaky/pseuds/metchaky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Honestly, Sammy, if you only invited me for the holidays because you needed my decoration expertise, you had only to ask"</p><p>Dean spends Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the weeks between with Sam, Jess, and their new house on Candy Cane Lane.<br/>& also, apparently, their next door neighbor, Castiel, who lets slip that "Candy Cane Lane" isn't just the name of their street.<br/>It's a responsibility.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>[update 11/26/2014: originally in two parts, but split for the sake of LJ post limit and link matching; am also in the middle of re-edits since the holidays reminded me this fic exists]</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally for Thoughtsickles for the deancasweek tumblr's secret santa gift exchange (but don't read that version b/c it was unedited, rushed, and I've added a few scenes this time around)

Thanksgiving had always been Dean’s favorite holiday. It, and the days preceding, were an excuse to dedicate himself completely to three of his most beloved F-words: family, football, and food. He'd been lacking in the first 'F' since Sam had spent the last couple holiday festivities celebrating with his engaged-to-be-in-laws and Dean had been willing to let it slide because he and Jess had just moved into a proper house in a cookie-cutter suburb with their white picket fence on a street _honest to god_ named Candy Cane Lane. And if Sam wanted to christen his new home with his new family, then by all means Dean would step aside. But this year he’d have his Turkey Day trifecta and as he pulled up to park in front of the perfectly manicured lawn of the Winchester-Moore household, he mentally flicked through his catalog of Thanksgiving dishes and patted his stomach encouragingly, “Just two more days ‘til you take the stage. Don’t let me down.”

By the time he’d stepped into the chill morning air and gotten his duffel bag slung over the shoulder of one arm and a bag of mixed groceries cradled in the crook of the other, Sam had noticed his arrival and was halfway down the porch stairs. “Hope the drive wasn’t too rough?” Sam asked as he pulled his brother in for their usual sturdy reunion hug. He peeked into the bag of groceries and a grin lit up his face, “Are these Ellen’s apples? How’s the orchard thing working out for her?”

Dean shrugged as he followed his brother up the walkway, “I wouldn’t call a handful of trees behind the Roadhouse an ‘orchard’, but whatever, Ash is gettin’ a real kick out of making his apple pie moonshine from homegrown scratch so I guess it’s alright.”

As they entered the house Dean noted with bittersweet satisfaction that it was exactly as he'd imagined. The entrance opened up into a study-slash-living room with laminated wooden floors, neat bookshelves, and a set of stairs leading up to their second floor. There was even a fireplace against the far wall to top it all off and Dean shot his brother an amused look before teasing, "Must be nice to cozy up by the fire in this freezing seventy degree California winter." 

Sam stood scratching the back of his neck with one hand while waving his other towards various decorations around the foyer and living room while mumbling something about “Jess has a taste for…” and “I took this art class where…” followed by a slightly defensive "It can get pretty cold at night" but Dean honestly couldn’t care less about whether or not Sam had had an emotional reaction to a painting while attending college and instead took note of how his little brother’s shoulders were pulled up tight with tension with a look upon his face that Dean had long since learned to interpret as ‘afraid to disappoint’ (which he’d always found hilarious because despite the many disappointments in Dean’s life, Sam had never contributed to any of them).

"Hey," he said, bumping shoulders with his younger brother and letting the genuine happiness he felt for their reunion soften the teasing, "it's--it's nice. Very 'academic'. Exactly what you'd expect from a couple a' lovey-dovey **nerds**." 

Sam rolled his eyes and let the tension leak from his shoulders as Dean took a moment to take in a spread of photographs on the wall above the computer desk. It showed Sam with people he’d never met in places he didn’t recognize and Dean felt a second of insecurity regarding his own presence before recognizing his and Sam’s dumb teenaged faces framed front and center hanging next to that of a similarly young Jess surrounded by family.

The same Jessica who was, at that moment, giving Dean a small wave and bright smile from a rounded archway leading into what looked to be their kitchen. “Knew I heard your monster of a car,” she smiled before pulling him down into a tight hug. She glanced towards the array of photos and groaned, “We’ve got this friend who’s really into home design and insisted we let them do…” she vaguely waved her hand towards the wall, “but the only photos we’ve really got are from facebook of us at various stages of inebriation.” She gestured to a particularly damning photo and Dean let out a hearty laugh at the juxtaposition between Jess’ attractively flushed smiling face pressed close to a sweaty Sam’s open-mouthed splotchy redness.

Dean clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “And here I was thinking you’d waste your college years in the basement of a library somewhere. Real proud of you, Sammy,” he said with a happy sigh, “You’ve got a lovely place--don’t get me wrong it’s a little too Better Homes and Gardens for me, but once you’ve got a few rugrats runnin’ around using sharpies on the walls and spilling milk on your laptop _then_ it’ll feel nice and broken in.” He squeezed Sam’s shoulder to convey the underlying sincerity of his words and then dropped his hand because, honestly, that was enough of that.

Jess rolled her eyes in good humor and proceeded to steer Sam and Dean into the kitchen after directing Dean to set his duffel at the foot of the stairs. “Alright, Dean. Sam told me that you know a dozen different ways to cook a turkey and I just wanted you to know that I plan on having you teach me every single one of those ways at some point in my life because I remember when Sam brought back leftovers in undergrad and _je_ sus even re-heated it was amazing.”

Dean let the words warm him, having forgotten how easily and sincerely his future-sister-in-law doled out her praise. “Well, first things first,” Dean said as he took in the black granite countertops and cherry wood cabinets, “the secret is using real turkey,”.

Sam gave him a disgruntled look while Jess laughed in relief. “I guess Sam let slip about the wonders of holiday feasting with my family? I mean, I love me some tofurky and soyrizo and all that, but my parents go through all these fad diets and I just haven’t had a decently indulgent Thanksgiving dinner in ages,” she said, stretching up to give her fiance a placating kiss on the cheek. Dean waggled his eyes at his brother over Jess’ head and Sam quickly snatched one of Ellen’s apples and chucked it at his brother.

Over the next few hours of laughter and mild insults, beer bottles of varying brands had begun to clutter one section of countertop as Sam and Dean showed Jess how to make pie crust on another. She had proven to be especially apt at crimping the edges perfectly and had found herself looking up decorative pie crust latticeworks to replicate. Sam looked over her shoulder as she opened the different designs in new tabs before setting his chin on her shoulder and murmuring just loud enough for Dean to hear, “Hey, we should do this one for Cas, yeah?” She nodded and tapped a finger against the edge of her keyboard in thought.

“That the loner neighbor you’ve told me about?,” Dean asked as he arranged the finished pie crust bottoms in the fridge.

“Loner? Really, Dean, are we still in high school?” Sam teased, “All I said was that he lives alone and works from home so Jess and I try to include him in stuff.”

“Y’know,” Dean nudged him, “most people just adopt a puppy.”

“Well, he tilts his head and can be pretty adorable like a puppy?” Jess shrugged before adding, with an innocent look at Sam, “Also, he’s already house-trained so why would we ever want an actual dog?” Sam shot her a withering glare and she returned it with a wink and a soft, “You know I’m just kidding. Maybe I’ll get you a puppy for your birthday.”

While Dean was filled to the brim with a contented joy to see his younger brother so happy and exactly where he wanted to be in his life, he couldn’t help but scrutinize his own life trajectory. The way he bounced around between the homes of the people he loved during the holidays had been starting to weigh on him. Sure, he loved when it was just him and his baby out on the open road, but the endless holidays and celebrations were making him warm to the idea of a stable dining table of his own for his cobbled together family to gather round.

Sam glanced up at Dean’s continued silence and frowned in thought for a moment before his expression turned apologetic. “Hey, man, sorry. You’ve been on the road for a few days now. You must be beat and we haven’t even shown you to your room yet.”

“A bed sure does sound like heaven right now,” Dean said eyeing the clock.

Jess scrunched her lips together as a printer kicked to life in another room. “We can finish up the top crusts and you’ll be able to get a nice long nap in before dinner. Sound good?”

“Sounds awesome,” Dean yawned as he went back to grab his duffel by the door. Within minutes he found himself tucked comfortably between freshly laundered sheets in a guest room that was stylishly gray and modern. He took a moment to appreciate the heavy blackout curtains before drifting off into the softest and most fragrant sleep he’d had in years.

\--

Dean was just popping their third and final pie into the oven when Sam appeared in the doorway clad in his pajamas and squinting into the bright kitchen lights. He warily eyed the two finished pies cooling on the open windowsill. “Who actually cools pies on their windowsill nowadays? You’re gonna let all the flies in, Betty Crocker.”

“Shaddup,” Dean said happily as he whipped a damp rag at his brother’s crotch.

Sam jumped away, laughing, and moved to pour himself a cup of coffee as his brother pulled a stack of pancakes from the microwave. “I swear I slept a full eight hours last night, but I’m still exhausted.”

“Am I going to have to have a talk with Jessica about letting my baby brother get his beauty sleep?” Dean asked in mock seriousness.

“Yeah, actually, could you talk to her?” Sam quipped without hesitation, “She’s insatiable and it’d just be nice to get a full eight hours of sleep for once, y’know?”

A hearty laugh broke out of Dean and he looked proudly over at his brother. “Look at you all grown up. Since when were you able to talk about ‘The Sex’ without blushing like a virgin? Because it sure as hell wasn’t when I visited you in college.”

“I don’t know, Dean, I think it might’ve been sometime between the third or fifth time that I walked in on you and your flavor of the week going at it.”

“Maybe you should’ve learned to knock.”

“Or maybe you should’ve kept it in your pants while in communal areas.”

“Really, Sammy?” Dean gasped around his laughter, “Do you need me to remind you of the dressing down you got from Ellen for nearly getting it on in one of her dining booths?”

“You want to talk about lectures from Ellen?” Sam balked.

The two brothers were nearly wrestling on the floor by the time Jess joined them, freshly showered, stomach grumbling, and armed with a few anecdotes of her own.

\--

Castiel been staring blankly at his inbox, hitting refresh for the nth time that night when a sudden burst of melody alerted him to the fact that someone was at his door and that, actually, it was well-past morning. He rubbed at his eyes and double-checked that the email he’d been waiting for still hadn’t arrived before making his way to the door.

Standing in the early afternoon sunlight was a vaguely familiar, if not incredibly attractive, man holding what looked to be pie. Castiel pulled his thick black robe closed as the icy nearly-December chill began to seep into his home and squinted out at bright green eyes before clearing his voice and stating, “I didn’t order pie.”

A look of confusion slid across the stranger’s face before it was overtaken by that of amusement. “It ain’t delivery, it’s Dean Winchester.”

Castiel blinked at him for a moment as his mind helpfully connected the surname to the photographs hanging in his neighbor’s house. “Oh, you must be Sam’s brother. He mentioned you’d be visiting for the holidays.”

Dean nodded as his eyes flicked over Castiel, “And you’re… Cas?”

“Castiel, yes, though ‘Cas’ is also fine.” He reached to shake Dean’s hand, causing the other man to awkwardly rebalance the dish in hand. “Pie?”

Dean brandished the dessert with a happy smile. “Yes. Pie.” His eyes seemed to stall short of Castiel’s eyes before he shook his head and cleared his throat, continuing much less stiltedly, “Just baked ‘em this morning. Sam and Jess were afraid you might go pie-less and we couldn’t let that happen on Thanksgiving of all days.”

Castiel accepted the pie with heartfelt gratitude and let himself indulge in the enticing scent drifting from the still warm dish. His stomach took it as a cue to remind him of his impending starvation and Castiel figured that pie was a perfectly acceptable breakfast. He tore his eyes away from the deliciously golden brown crust and the seasonally appropriate design of carefully molded leaves ringing the edge. “This looks absolutely lovely and, in all honesty, I’m probably going to cut into it the moment I shut this door. I’d welcome you to join me if you haven’t already had your fill of pie for the day...?”

He watched as Dean looked over at the neighboring house with a conflicted expression before sighing with a shake of his head, “Y’know, I’m usually the last person to turn down a piece of pie, but I know for a fact that Sammy’s in that house printing out Thanksgiving salad recipes so I need to get back over there before he decides to take the shopping into his own hands.”

“Of course,” Castiel said, not particularly surprised nor put-off by the rejection.

He was, however, surprised by the wink that followed it and Dean’s assurance that, “Really, any other day and I’d join you. But today? Thanksgiving’s on the line. Though, dude,” he continued, clapping a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and leaning in with a hard stare, “you’ve gotta tell me if pie delivery is really a thing that exists around here because, if so, I might just have to move in. Even if it means that I’d be living on a street actually named ‘Candy Cane Lane’.”

Castiel smiled fondly down his street, “Yes, well, I guess if you’re not the type to embrace the name then you wouldn’t be the type to enjoy decorating your front yard every December, not that it’s a legal obligation or anything, just…soul-crushingly expected.”

“Yeah?” A cheshire grin slid its way across Dean’s face and Castiel couldn’t help but fixate on how expressive the other man’s face was, on how easily he manipulated each twitch of an eye and quirk of his lips.

“Well, it’s-” Castiel stumbled, trying to refocus his attention on the conversation and not wind-chapped lips, “-mostly for the children. And it’s not like anyone’s forced into participating in the winter plays they put on at the end of the court.”

“That’s good to know, Cas, thanks,” and with a with a final exchange of ‘Happy Thanksgiving’s Dean made his way back to the neighboring house. Castiel remained at his open door for a moment longer until his hunger finally convinced him to retreat into the warmth of his own home.

\--

Dean returned from Cas’ porch, practically skipping into the living room, to plant himself on the couch next to his brother. “So... when do you think you’re gonna put on the santa suit? Right on December first or do you think you’ll just go ahead and get a head start on Black Friday?”

Sam looked up from what Dean was disappointingly sure was lawyer work and scrunched up his face in confusion, “What?”

“Or maybe you’ve been given the role of an elf since you’re still new to the neighborhood? Y’know, not quite an A-lister just yet.”

Sam continued to look lost for only a second longer before he covered his face with a groan. “Cas told you. How did that even come up you were there for a minute.”

“What? That you live in Christmas Town? Yeah, it might’ve come up. And honestly, Sammy, if you only invited me for the holidays because you needed my decoration expertise, you had only to ask,” Dean taunted lightly as he pulled Sam closer by hooking an arm around his neck. “So, what d’ya think? Should we literally go all out Candy Cane Lane and put candy cane Santa with his candy cane reindeer and candy cane sleigh up on the roof?”

Sam pulled his head free from Dean’s arm and shoved him off the couch, “We already have our decorations planned out and won’t need your help, thanks. And anyways, jerk, we won’t be using beer cans and bottle caps so it’s a bit out of your realm of expertise.”

“Whatever, bitch,” Dean drawled from where he’d stretched out after landing on the floor, “my decorations were ingenious and you know it.”

Laughter bubbled out of Sam’s chest as he recalled their previous family Christmases. “Oh god, I remember when you tied all our shoelaces together and wrapped it around the tree as some really shitty garland.”

“You gotta work with what you’ve got,” Dean sighed happily.

His good mood lasted throughout the day and just barely managed to keep him sane during the high tensions of the nearly scavenger-like hunt for stores still carrying the necessary Thanksgiving goods. In fact, Dean’s good mood was still in full force when he was woken up by the sound of Sam retching in the bathroom on Thanksgiving morning.

Dean padded out into the still dark hallway to find Jess leaning against the wall just outside the bathroom in boxers and a tanktop, frowning at the ceiling. “I think it’s gastroenteritis,” she sighed unhappily, peeking around the door frame.

“Gesundheit,” Dean yawned before mirroring her to see Sam kneeling in front of the toilet with his cheek pressed against the seat and breath coming raggedly.

“It’s more commonly known as the stomach ‘flu’,” she said as she stepped forward brandishing a water bottle Dean hadn’t noticed her holding, “he should be fine in a few days as long as he stays hydrated and doesn’t eat anything too complicated.”

“Don’t let me ruin Thanksgiving,” Sam rasped, voice mutedly echoing off of the toilet bowl.

Dean watched as Jess softly murmured, snapping on a pair of medical gloves from a box under the sink while crouching down and carefully helping wipe Sam’s face clean. Dean’s hands twitched, not used to being the bystander when it came to his little brother. “Plain mashed potatoes and turkey without the gravy should be easy enough to keep down, right?”

Jess nodded, gingerly rubbing her fiance’s back, “Yep, we’ll just keep him away from spices and dairy and… well. Plain mash and turkey is perfect.”

“Hear that, Sammy? You’ll be able to join us for turkeyday after all. And from the mouth of a doctor so you know it’s true.”

“I’m still doing my residency,” Jess clarified as she helped Sam off the floor and flushed the toilet, “but you should still listen to me anyways.”

Dean shooed Jess back towards their bedroom, “You go tuck him in and I’ll clean up in here.”

“You sure?” she asked, shooting a look at the splatters of proof that Sam hadn’t made it to the toilet in time, “I’ve spent quite a lot of time around bed pans and the like so…”

“And I,” Dean said with an air of importance, “used to change his diapers.” He grabbed a pair of disposable gloves from the box, “Also he got food poisoning from this hole-in-the-wall diner once and he spent the entire week sitting on a toilet for one end and with a bucket in his face for the other.”

“Charming,” Jess huffed as she helped Sam stumble into their bed and under the covers.

She and Dean moved around each other in a nearly choreographed effort to make Sam comfortable. Within the next few minutes Sam had water bottles, gatorade, puke buckets, and his laptop within reach. Jess, after reassuring Dean that she’d keep an eye on Sam’s symptoms, handed off a list detailing the progression of food they should try to feed Sam throughout the day and Dean gave a mock salute before heading down the stairs and into the kitchen.

It had been years since Dean had actually lived with his brother, but still he found himself struggling to accept the fact that he was no longer Sam’s primary care provider. But Jess was good for Sam. She was even professionally guaranteed to do a better job than Dean ever could in keeping his brother healthy and all while making him happy too. Dean was so caught up in his thoughts while going through the motions of whipping up a batch of jello by rote, that he almost missed the light knocking coming from the front door.

On the other side of the screen was the next-door neighbor, looking much less scruffy and much more bathed than the previous day. Despite his improved hygiene-- because Dean was well aware that a bit of wear and tear was definitely his type-- Cas was still as attractive as he’d remembered and Dean immediately felt his annoyance at having his moment of self-pity interrupted bleed away into playful flirtation.

“Well howdy, neighbor! What can I do you for?” Dean grinned as he pulled out his faux Southern charm.

Cas held up a green cloth bag claiming [eco friendly] in loud white typography. “I wanted to thank you for the delicious pie. I believe it’s customary to return the sentiment with similarly homecooked goods, but my baking skills are a bit suspect so I’ve brought ice cream from my favorite creamery instead.”

“Shucks, Cas, you didn’t have to go through the trouble,” Dean reached for the bag and peeked in to see four plain white containers and looked back up at Cas with a raised eyebrow. “Is some of this yours ‘cause there’s like... a gallon of ice cream in here. Not that I’m complaining.”

He took note of the adorable reddening of Castiel’s nose due to the chilly air as the man shook his head, “I wasn’t sure which flavors would go best with your pie, or even what pies you’d made. I know that vanilla is the most common pairing, but I couldn’t decide between French vanilla and vanilla bean so I’ve included a quart of both. The third is my personal favorite: caramel almond crunch swirl. And the last is actually a tub of frozen yogurt for Sam.”

“Yeah, that’s…” Dean cleared his throat and attempted to temper his wide smile in spite of being completely enamored by the image of Cas painstakingly weighing the pros and cons of ice cream flavors, “that’s really awesome of you, dude. Now we’ll have to sit down together for some pie ala mode before I leave.”

“I’d be happy to do so, Dean,” Cas beamed, taking a step back to signal his imminent departure, “Have a happy Thanksgiving and please do pass the sentiment on to Sam and Jess.”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said before embarrassingly only then recalling the fact that: “actually Sam’s got the stomach bug and won’t even be able to eat half the stuff we were planning on cooking without horkin’ it back up, so if you didn’t have any plans,” his mouth said blazing ahead without discretion, “you should join us for dinner.”

“I’d…” Cas started, brows furrowing and head tilting as though he’d just been handed a puzzle before continuing slowly, “...hate to impose.” It hit Dean, then, just how much he didn’t want this guy he barely knew to spend the holiday alone. Sure, he was easy on the eyes, but, more importantly, the swapping of pie and frozen yogurt suggested a closer friendship between the two neighbors than Dean had apparently assumed.

And if Sam had even taken the time to mention the guy to Dean during their weekly calls, then perhaps an invitation wouldn’t be too massive a social faux pas. Not that Dean really cared, regardless. “It’s not an imposition if I’m the one offering,” he insisted gently.

Castiel stared at Dean calmly for what felt like a solid minute before finally nodding with an audibly grateful acceptance. “If you’re sure you don’t mind and that it wouldn’t be an intrusion, I’d love to. Is there something I should bring?”

“Nahh,” he reassured him, “we already have what we need. First game starts in an hour or so if you’re so inclined. If football’s not your thing then come over whenever you want, though we’ll be starting the prep work around noon.”

“Yes, okay,” Cas said, finally sounding confident in the idea, “I’ll be over in a bit, then.” Dean returned the other man’s wave goodbye before shutting the hefty screen door and turning around to find a smug-looking Jess grinning at him from the top of the stairs.

“He’s single.”

“Didn’t ask,” he shrugged with an attempt at nonchalance. “And anyways, Sam would get all pissy and make frowny faces if I boned his neighbor.”

“You’ve grown up, Dean Winchester,” Jess said approvingly and all too seriously for Dean’s taste considering they’d only met a handful of times over the years. He gave her a skeptical look. “Okay, maybe I didn’t know you a decade ago,” she conceded at his expression, “but I’d like to point out that the first time we met, you were kind of a schmuck who definitely didn’t let my relationship with your brother get in the way of you hitting on me.”

“Touche,” he yielded before pursing his lips together, “How’s the kid doing?”

“Hydrated and sleeping. The jello?”

“Ready in ten. You watching the game?”

“I’d probably be disowned if my parents found out I didn’t. Just let me make sure Sam’s got his cell phone charged and within reach and I’ll be down.”

“Roger that,” Dean said and stopped by the kitchen to sneak a slice of apple pie before sinking into the living room couch and flipping the channel to the first pre-game show of the day.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how common the tradition is, but in my hometown we've got a couple streets designated (not actually named) "Candy Cane Lane" and "Lollipop Way" (or something) where everyone on that street goes all out with decorations for the month of December.
> 
> It draws crowds of people each year and I love it~


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had his hand halfway up a turkey when Cas finally wandered in just in time for the second game’s kick-off. He didn’t even blink at the sight and accepted Jess’ kiss on the cheek in greeting while Dean let himself appreciate the man’s well-fitted brown cardigan and dark wash jeans.

“Did you bring us more ice cream?” Dean winked playfully, eyeing the bag Cas had placed on the counter.

The other man frowned with an almost pained expression, “No, I didn’t. Should I have? Do you think we’ll need another quart or two? I think the creamery will be open for another hour so I-”

“No no no, Cas,” Dean interrupted, stepping forward to use his hand not coated in turkey guts to grab Cas’ exposed-- and unexpectedly muscular-- forearm, “I think you’ve met our ice cream quota for the day. I was just teasing.”

It didn’t take long for Cas’ lips to quirk up into a relieved smile and suddenly Dean was aware of how close his step had taken him and how appealing the subtle scent of Cas’ musk was turning out to be. His eyes flicked away from wide blue eyes just in time to see Jess roll her eyes.

Dean moved away, clearing his throat and washing his hands before turning most of his attention back to the turkey. Cas took it as an opportunity to unpack his bag and explained that he’d brought several tupperwares filled with soup and fairly bland chicken and rice porridge for Sam to eat through his recovery. “The last time Sam was over,” Cas continued, pulling out a jar of honey, “he’d expressed an interest in my teas so I’ve brought an herbal one that should, with lemon, ginger, and honey, be perfect for soothing his throat if he still can’t keep anything down.”

“You’re a darling, Cas,” Jess said as she helped him put everything away, “I’ll be going up there to let him try eating again in a minute, but for now why don’t we break out a bottle of our shittiest wine, and believe me we’ve got a lot of shitty wine, and then we can start on getting this dinner cooked.”

“Wi~ine?” Dean jokingly moaned in a nasally voice, “You guys settle down in California and suddenly you’re too good for beer?”

“We’re too good for shitty beer. All we’ve got right now are craft beers and it’d only add insult to injury if we cracked those open while Lurch is upstairs out of commission.” She uncorked a bottle of red wine and poured it into three travel mugs with the explanation that “Three people doing prep work in the same kitchen? Someone’s gonna knock something over and tumblers are the sippy cups of the adult world.” They gave a small cheer, tapped their plastic lids together, and slurped down a healthy mouthful before Jess disappeared up the stairs with one of Cas’ soup-filled wares.

Dean slipped the turkey into the oven and took a sip of wine before drawing Cas’ attention to him with a nudge. “Umm, hey,” he started and usually Dean would prefer to make light of the situation, he wouldn’t stand so close, wouldn’t be so unwavering in his gaze, “thanks for bringing that stuff over for Sammy. Again. Really.”

“Your brother and I bonded over the many things we had in common,” Cas said, returning Dean’s gaze in full force, “particularly the fact that we’d both grown up overwhelmingly reliant on our siblings and were now adjusting to a life independent.” His eyes flicked away for a moment as he cleared his throat before continuing, “Of course my siblings made themselves scarce the moment each turned eighteen and left me wholly unprepared for adulthood while Sam’s continued to be a source of unflinching support from which he gained the confidence and freedom to pursue his ambitions.”

Dean looked at him skeptically, “You do know I’m his only sibling, right?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas sighed in slight exasperation, “that’s the whole point. Sam speaks awfully highly of you.”

Instead of letting the sentiment sink in, Dean uncapped his tumbler and took a long drink before refilling it with a shake of his head, “Hey, man, it was a simple thank you for some soup. No need to get all 7th Heaven on me.”

Cas gave a small nod, obviously in thought, and Dean quickly glanced at the oven timer-- not even five minutes had passed-- before sighing and wiggling the nearly empty bottle of wine at the other man. “Top up?”

“Ah, no I still have-” Cas cut himself off, visibly reconsidering, and then followed Dean’s example of cap removal and wine drainage before accepting the refill. “Wine,” Cas declared with a pinched expression, “probably tastes better when savored and not chugged.”

“Probably would taste better if it were a bottle of Jack.”

“Hmmm.” Cas said as took another mouthful of wine, swishing it around with a look of intense concentration.

Dean didn’t even try to hold back his bark of laughter at how ridiculous the guy looked with his puffed out cheeks. He threw a clean dishrag at Cas’ now smiling face and pointed towards the stove, “Make yourself useful and start on the mashed potatoes.”

Cas directed a slightly dismayed look at the pot and asked, “Do you happen to have a recipe or instructions of some sort?”

“Mashed potatoes,” Dean repeated, “you take potatoes and... mash them,” he helpfully explained.

“‘Show don’t tell’,” said Jess, whose return Dean hadn’t noticed. “But it really is just a bit of milk, butter, and mashing.” She rifled through a couple drawers before pulling out a potato masher. “Here,” she said, handing it off to Cas, “now pass me the wine.”

Four bottles and several hours later all the dishes were cooked, the table was set, and Dean’s chest was pressed along the length of Cas’ back with his chin hovering over his shoulder. “Turkey carving one-oh-one, Cas, you gotta remove the drumsticks first.” Dean used a fork to nudge the bird and hummed in approval when Cas brought the shiny silver knife to the right spot with steady hands, “Make sure you watch out for the joints.”

Cas took the carving fork from him and proceeded to follow his instructions with utmost focus, occasionally pausing to lean against the solid chest behind him whenever Dean needed room to pull apart or rearrange the pieces of meat by hand.

“Oh my god,” Jess groaned from her seat next to a freshly showered Sam at the dining table, “I haven’t eaten since breakfast and if you guys weren’t so focused on rubbing your asses together then I’d already have Thanksgiving in my mouth.”

“Oh please, Jessica,” Cas, who’d gradually revealed an unexpected cattiness with each successive tumbler of wine, scoffed, “The position we’d need to be in in order to rub our asses together wouldn’t be very conducive to getting this turkey carved properly.”

“Don’t tell me you’re both mean drunks,” Dean interrupted as he nudged Cas aside and took over.

“Jess is just a mean hungry-person, it has nothing to do with drinking,” Sam offered groggily, receiving a swat on his shoulder for the effort.

Dean took mercy on Cas and, instead of further teasing him, picked a piece of turkey from the plate and fed it into his--grudgingly--open mouth. The turkey was the centerpiece dish and as soon as it was placed Jess raised a hand and declared, “since at least three of us would blow over a .08, Sam’s pretty out of it, and the two of you,” she waved a hand between Dean and Cas, “have only just met, I was thinking maybe we’d skip the whole individual giving of thanks and maybe just go with a generic thanks for the people in our lives who aren’t full of crap with an extra big helping of appreciation for the present company?”

Dean found himself instantly agreeing, a sentiment shared by Cas and a slightly less woozy Sam.

“So unless anyone has anything else to add...,” she paused expectantly before continuing uninterrupted, “then I think we should have a few seconds of silence for anyone who’d like to take a moment to add a silent grace and then we can chow down.”

At first Dean thought Jess had been referring to herself, but then she’d given a subtle yet pointed look towards both Cas and Sam and Dean used the moment of silence to wonder how he’d missed that part of Sam’s life since apparently--judging by the way her eyes were bouncing from dish to dish--he hadn’t picked it up from his fiancee. But before Dean could really wade into the quagmire of how awful a sibling he’d have to be to not know his brother was religious-- utensils were picked up and between Jess’ undisguised adoration for his disgustingly ill brother and Cas’ look of absolute contentment, Dean couldn’t find it in himself to properly brood.

They clinked their glasses full of decidedly non-alcoholic sparkling cider and dug into their meal. Conversation came much more easily than Dean could have ever expected and, reading between the lines of their nostalgia and swapping of embarrassing stories, by the end of the night he knew enough about both Jess and Cas that he was beginning to see them less as ‘Sam’s fiancee’ and ‘Sam’s neighbor’ and rather as simply ‘Jess’ and ‘Cas’.

He learned that Jess had spent most of her life in the San Francisco Bay Area and had almost turned down Stanford because it was local. Cas had grown up on Candy Cane Lane and had been left the responsibility of maintaining his family home. They both came from large families, but while Jess had half a dozen brothers and sisters, Cas had innumerable aunts, uncles, and cousins.

Regarding Sam, he’d learned that his younger brother had taken his irresponsible twenty-something advice and hadn’t shied away from attending keggers between study sessions, but had resolutely stayed clear of experimenting with drugs after finding out it would make him ineligible to join the FBI. Dean had burst out laughing when Cas enlightened Sam to the fact that he could have spent his first year smoking as much pot as he wanted since FBI policy only required a candidate to be three years clean, a fact Cas had reportedly picked up during his career as a researcher-slash-fact-checker (at which point he insisted it was rarely interesting and mostly spent confirming name spellings and academic history).

Their conversation followed anecdote after anecdote and after they’d finished a bit of rudimentary cleaning and had relocated to the family room, Dean was completely blindsided by Cas cornering him outside the bathroom and asking, “What about you?”

“Uhh, what about me?” Dean returned, bewildered.

“We’ve just spent thirty minutes sitting around a table with non-stop chatter and while I now know, in nearly intimate detail, the evolution of Sam and Jessica’s ambitions and have shared that of my own, I can’t seem to recall any topic that centered on you.”

“I’m pretty sure there was that bit in the middle--”

“Getting caught by your younger brother with a guy between your legs in your school’s supply closet is hardly telling,” Cas accused.

“It was behind the football bleachers, actually.”

“I’ve heard Sam speak so highly of you and all you’ve sacrificed for him,” Cas continued unabashed, but I was hoping to hear about you--not as an extension of your brother, but you.”

Dean immediately closed off his expression and found himself mentally torn between being fiercely indignant or feeling embarrassingly validated. Cas seemed catch on and quickly backtracked.

“I apologize, I’ve obviously overstepped. I just...,” he let out a heavy sigh, hand reflexively running through his hair before finally raising his eyes to Dean’s face. He took a second to collect himself before continuing, “I have been eager to meet ‘Sam’s older brother’ and it seems I forgot to account for…” he trailed off, eyes darting down to Dean’s lips which quirked up into a teasing smirk.

Dean stepped forward and, when Cas didn’t move away, leaned in to press a confident, but close-mouthed kiss to his lips. “Jesus, Cas,” he said, following as Cas pressed himself back against the wall, “if you wanna tell a guy he’s hot just tell him he’s hot. No need to try and start a game of twenty questions.”

Castiel let out a displeased huff of warm air against Dean’s cheek before pulling him in by the hips and moving one hand to press against the back of his head. Dean followed the motion without complaint, one hand against the wall for balance and the other smoothing across the hard line of Cas’ jaw, coaxing it open as his tongue pushed softly against his bottom lip. He groaned happily at Cas’ complete lack of hesitation as the other man gripped his shirt, pulling them flush with bumping noses and warm breaths.

“The game’s about to start!” Sam’s hoarse voice called out.

They pulled apart, disgruntled, but Dean still found himself cheerfully sated. He unashamedly made a production of wiping his mouth off on his sleeve as he walked back into the living room, returning Sam’s irritated look with a wink, and proceeded to collapse onto one end of the couch. Cas joined him on the opposite end and Dean took the chance to check him out without pretense, only stopping when Jess dropped a soft blanket on his head.

Dean registered the Seahawks kicking off at the start of the game, but it wasn’t long before the warm blanket and full stomach pulled him into sleep.

\--

“Sorry, we no longer carry that” was fast becoming one of Castiel’s least favorite phrases this holiday season. He’d been carrying his bulky three-hundred foot roll of outdoor lights from store to store trying to find spare bulbs to replace whatever had caused the entire line of green lights to go out-- and only the green lights because the reds, blues, and oranges worked fine-- but it seemed that the model he owned had been phased out of production.

He was still looking at the shelves upon shelves dedicated to Christmas lights running the length of the back wall when someone nudged his shoulder and Dean’s warm voice said, “Heya, Cas.”

“Hello,” Castiel said, smiling at the other man who was wearing oil-stained jeans and a green cargo jacket over a light gray shirt with his hands resting on a shopping cart full of outdoor Christmas decorations. “Helping Jess while Sam’s still sick?”

“Not exactly, Sam’s bowels are all under control, but now they’re both back to work so I insisted. I can’t believe how expensive some of this shit is,” Dean said his disdain evident both in tone and the way he eyed the price tags lining the shelves in front of them. “What’re you up to? I’d think that a Candy Cane Lane veteran like you’d already have an arsenal stocked and ready to go.”

Castiel looked unhappily at his neatly rolled string of lights, “I finished checking and putting everything up yesterday afternoon, but when I went to turn off the lights this morning all the greens in this string weren’t working. Since they seem to neither carry spares nor replacement strings in this model, I’m prepared to buy a new one, but nothing they have seems to match the color variation and glow intensity of the other strings that are still up,” he sighed as he thought of his bank account, “perhaps it’s time to replace the whole set.”

Dean threw him an exasperated look, “That is way too much work and a waste of money. Look, I’ve got a multimeter. Just buy any spare with the same sized bulb, I’ll teach you how to check for continuity down the string and then you can just swap bulb sockets.”

Castiel found that while the idea of saving money was appealing, it wasn’t nearly as appealing as the chance to have Dean hanging around. Dean, who he hadn’t seen since Thanksgiving when Cas had gone home after his hosts had all fallen asleep in front of the television. And then before he knew it vacation was over and he had an inbox full of articles about tryptophan, international Christmas traditions, and suddenly December had arrived and the only person he’d had any interaction with had been Jess on her way to work.

And now, with Dean in front of him in all his casual and easygoing glory, Castiel couldn’t understand how he’d managed to be so productive with his work when Dean Winchester had been right next door. “Can you come over today?” Castiel asked, trying not to be too obviously eager, but, if the playful glint in Dean’s eyes were anything to go by, failing miserably.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said and Castiel basked in the lack of hesitation, “I was just on my way to the checkout so if you wanna wait a second then I can just follow your car home since I still don’t quite know the lay of the land and shopping areas are the worst.”

“Oh, I don’t really drive. I took the bus.” He said and watched as a perplexed look of disapproval crossed the other man’s face.

“You don’t drive? I mean, I can sort of get that in a big city where they’ve got subways and cabs at every corner, but you live in a Californian suburb surrounded by cows and farmland.”

“I have a car,” Castiel clarified still unsure why the topic had Dean so disconcerted, “but I telecommute for work and if I do travel it tends to be by plane.”

“Man,” Dean exhaled, nudging Castiel towards the register with his cart, “you’re missing out.”

“I enjoy watching people on the bus. Some have such fascinating personalities and habits.”

Dean let out a low laugh that Castiel knew he’d never get tired of and said, “‘Fascinating’ is one helluva euphemism.”

Indignant, Castiel described the myriad of people he’d met and observed throughout the decades he’d spent using public transportation and was heatedly retelling a story about the time he’d boarded a subway car full of clowns in London by the time they reached Dean’s Impala.

“Sure,” Dean was saying--because Dean had listened and responded and engaged with Castiel on a topic his cousins usually yawned at-- “you get to see a lot of weird and unexpected shit sometimes, but the problem is that you’re only ever seeing people in transit. People get on a bus because they want to be somewhere else. Out on the road you’ll see families on a trip or tourists from out of town, but then you stop at a diner and you also get to see people living their lives.”

He didn’t miss the wistful look on Dean’s face and Castiel gladly encouraged him to share his experiences. And even though most of Dean’s stories revolved around descriptions of beer, burgers, and breakfasts, Castiel still found himself falling in love with the classically romantic image of two-lane highways and no civilization in sight.

Much to Castiel’s chagrin, Dean transitioned back to running through the process of checking Christmas lights with mentions of continuity and multimeters and “divide and conquer”, as they finally reached Cas’ house. “I have to admit,” he said, waving Dean into the living room and setting the Christmas lights onto his wooden coffee table, “You may have lost me at the point where military and political strategy came into play.”

“No, ‘divide and conquer’ as in, instead of going bulb by bulb,” Dean explained unhurriedly, “you eliminate the possibilities by halves.”

“Mmhmm,” Castiel said, more interested in the way Dean’s knees were spread wide where he’d sat on the edge of the couch.

“So first, I’ve got this multimeter which might be a bit of overkill, but --”

Castiel took the gadget from Dean’s hands and set it carefully on the table behind him before settling on the ground between Dean’s legs with his hands placed hesitantly on the other man’s knees. “Dean, if you don’t mind…” he paused, his previous experiences had never put him in a position where verbal acquiescence had seemed necessary for a blow job, but then Castiel had never been so impatient to give one so instead he simply said, “I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving.”

Dean huffed a laugh at that and rubbed his hands on the thighs of his jeans almost self-consciously before muttering, “Well, I guess there are worse ways to spend the afternoon.”

Castiel took it for what it was and mentally paced himself as he slid his hands up Dean’s jean-clad legs, slowly undoing the button and fly before carefully tugging the pants off, only bothering to free it from one foot before pushing it to bunch near the other. He pulled Dean’s still soft cock free of his boxer briefs and wasted no time in getting his mouth around the soft skin.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean said with a strained groan, ”where the hell have you been all week?”

Castiel didn’t respond, instead taking the chance to appreciate the feeling of Dean swelling in his mouth and fingers pressing into his hair. Cas pulled off, dragging slow licks up his length as his fingers gripped muscled thighs, thumbs pressing circles into the sensitive flesh at his base. Castiel’s focus tunneled as he began working Dean, now fully hard, back into his mouth and further towards his throat with each successive bob. He barely took note of Dean’s soft murmurs, all less vulgar than he’d been expecting, and instead drank in the sound of each heavy breath and throaty moan, only encouraged further by the spasming pressure of Dean’s fingers twisting in his hair.

There was a dull ache in his jaw--it’d been too long since he’d s done this, too eager to savor and make it last--by the time Dean started up a litany of curses interspersed with Castiel’s name and he could feel the quiver of the muscles beneath his palm and barely registered the insistent tugging and exhaled warning before Dean was filling his mouth.

Castiel swallowed, letting the slowly softening member slip free and rested his cheek against Dean’s thigh as he let his awareness return to him. He leaned into the fingers rubbing gently, but firmly, over his scalp and finally sat back on his shins, looking up at the green eyes above him. Castiel was acutely aware of the fact that he’d been so focused on the mechanics that he’d completely wasted an opportunity to watch Dean’s expressions in the midst of pleasure. However, Dean in the aftermath was captivating on its own and he almost resisted when Dean tugged him up to straddle him on the couch, wanting to simply observe. But Castiel realized that he couldn’t really resist and he soon found his lips pressed against Dean’s languid grin.

“Here, Cas, let me…” Dean murmured against his neck, nipping across his jaw and down his throat as his fingers tugged at the waist of his jeans.

It had been a few years since Castiel had had a chance to simply indulge in kisses and he was only just realizing how much he’d missed it and if Dean was willing then Cas was going to spoil himself. So he pulled Dean’s hands onto his hips instead and gently chided, “Next time.”

Dean didn’t put up a fight, but made sure to follow through on his offer several times throughout the next couple weeks.

\--


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!Not a new chapter!!  
>  I'm splitting it into three parts to match the post limit on LJ so links match up. Sorry~

  
Dean pouted at the sight of Sam and Cas hovering over a table covered in small bowls filled with colorful shapes of various sizes, “I spent all morning crawling on the roof and you two are hanging around eating candy?”

“We’re making gingerbread houses for the neighborhood bake sale,” Sam explained as he picked up an orange gumdrop and arced it into the air towards his brother, who caught it in his open mouth and gave a proud thumbs up.

“Well, not so much ‘gingerbread’ as ‘graham crackers’,” Castiel amended, words slightly distorted around the candy cane sticking out of his mouth, “but the ‘houses’ part was accurate?”

“So was the ‘eating candy’ part,” Dean said as he sidled up next to Cas.

Castiel bumped their hips together in greeting and held out a square piece of caramel in offering. Dean happily took it between his lips and turned to the table, scooping up a handful of m&ms before reaching towards the bowl of jelly beans. His efforts, however were intercepted by Cas who was forcibly emptying Dean’s fist of m&ms into an empty bowl while chastising him about “washed hands” and “California hygiene regulations”.

“You’d think,” Sam said with a grin, “that a table covered in candy would be the sweetest thing the room, but you two…”

“You shut your floppy-haired mouth before I go godzilla on your candy castle,” Dean said without any real hostility, more interested in collecting his favorite sweets with the spoon and bowl Cas had given him. He shoveled a spoonful of malt balls and m&ms into his mouth, collapsing into a chair as Castiel carefully placed his graham cracker house in a large plastic container already holding a couple rows of completed houses.

“You done?” Sam asked, glancing up from where he was painstakingly drawing shingles onto his roof with frosting.

“Yes. And once you’ve finished I can take everything back to my house and drop it off at the Henriksens’ house while you and Jess are at work tomorrow.”

“Thanks a lot, man,” Sam said, flashing his neighbor an appreciative smile,” And don’t bother waiting for me, I’ll probably just keep this one for Jess.”

“Not a problem and I’m certain Jess will appreciate it,” Cas replied as he returned the smile.

Dean took another look at Sam’s graham cracker house, noticing that warheads, butterscotch candies, and white chocolate accounted for a large portion of materials used. And if there was anything that Dean knew about his brother, it was that Sam’s preferences tended towards the non-lip puckering, gummies, and dark chocolates.

Standing up, Dean quickly tipped the remainder of his sweets into his mouth and took the container of graham cracker houses from Cas, huffing a quiet laugh at the guy’s wrinkled brows and confused pout. “You’re gonna need another hand to get through your front door,” Dean explained, “So. Me, carry. You, door.”

Cas ducked his head in a small nod, moving forwards to hold their front door open.

“Jess is getting home soon with a movie from the redbox,” Sam called as they stepped outside, “so be back in thirty with your flies zipped, please!” Hands occupied, Dean couldn’t flip his brother off so he settled for sticking out his tongue instead.

The walk to Castiel’s house was slightly longer than usual. While they’d usually just cut across each other’s lawns, both front yards were now an obstacle course of mechanical reindeer and nativity scene props. Sam had even, much to Dean’s glee, put up a lit fence made of a couple dozen oversized plastic candy canes.

The sky was dark, but the street was lit with the now familiar glow of christmas lights and ornaments. Dean hadn’t yet had the the chance to check-out the competition--though Castiel insisted that there was no ranking and no pressure to do so despite Dean calling bullshit-- but he’d instantly fallen in love with the atmosphere.

After they’d covered the extra twenty feet to Cas’ house, Dean set the container on his dining table and stood back as Castiel checked to make sure everything was intact and that nothing had shifted too drastically during the brief transport.

Dean took the moment as an opportunity to appreciate the man before him. The day had been warm, not irregular for the Golden State even in December, and Cas had forgone a jacket, instead sticking to a plain black shirt under an open light gray cardigan with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Dean stepped in close and slipped his hand under both layers, one hand tracing over the ridges of spine as the other wrapped around to splay against Cas’ stomach, pulling him close.

Dean placed a series of soft kisses with just barely a touch of tongue across the back of Castiel’s neck. “I was thinking,” he murmured against the juncture of neck and shoulder, “since we’ve got a bit of time before Sam starts demanding our presence…”

Cas placed his hands over that of Dean’s, still pressed warmly against his abdomen and Dean was distantly surprised, though encouraged, that Castiel wasn’t pushing his hand further south. “Hmm…?” the skin of Cas’ throat vibrated beneath Dean’s lips.

“Now that we’ve finally put up the last of the decorations, maybe we could take a look at all the brightly lit glory your street’s got to offer.”

Dean heard, as well as felt, Cas’ sharp intake of breath and whatever spell of comfort and warmth that he’d previously been under immediately broke. He stepped back, berating himself because what the fuck made him invite the guy he was having casual not-even-full-on-sex with to accompany him on some weirdly romantic stroll through said guy’s own neighborhood? And, more importantly, why would Cas even be interested in going on some mini-date-- because Dean was fairly horrified to realize that he definitely meant it as a date and not as some buddy-bro outing--with his neighbor’s visiting relative?

He schooled his features into a casual smile and shrugged, “though I guess since you’ve lived here your whole life the magic’s probably lost it’s luster by now, huh?”

Castiel finally turned to face him and instead of the looks of annoyance, discomfort, and disappointment that Dean had been expecting, his eyes were bright with a smile. “I didn’t think you’d want to. I mean,” he pulled Dean forward by the wrist and met his eyes, completely confident and at ease, “I was sure you’d join me had I asked. But I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“I’m gonna let you in on a secret,” Dean said as he lifted a hand to cup Cas’ jaw, “I fucking love Christmas.”

Castiel let out a startled little laugh and smiled widely against Dean’s lips, “Then you’re definitely in the right place.”

They stood sharing a dozen more kisses, each deeper and more determined than the last, until Cas backed up, hitting his table and nearly knocking the container of graham cracker houses to the floor. Only then did they finally head out the door with fifteen minutes to go.

The temperature had dropped in the short amount of time they’d been indoors so they snatched a couple scarves and jackets from Cas’ closet on their way out and were greeted with an overwhelmingly blue and white glow from the house across the street.

“Those are the Gordons,” Cas said when he noticed what had caught Dean’s attention, “They’re Jewish, but they enjoy the community and the tradition so they decorate for the season. Or at least,” Castiel revised, eyeing the blanket of fake snow covering their lawn, “another state’s version of the winter season.”

“Have you ever had a family that refused to decorate?” Dean asked, bumping shoulders with Cas as they crossed the street and continued down the road.

“Not anyone who hasn’t been okay with letting some of the neighborhood teenagers put up some basic decorations for them,” Cas answered as he fussed with his scarf before blowing on his hands and sticking them deep into his jacket pockets.

Dean took pity on the California native, sacrificing his own scarf in favor of wrapping it around the lower half of Castiel’s face and then linking their arms together to pull him tight against his side. Cas turned to him and while Dean couldn’t see his lips behind the scarves, his smile shone bright in the corner of his eyes and remained there through the entirety of their stroll.

The blinking lights settled him and Dean let any nagging worries about the approaching end of holidays seep away into explanations of neighborhood traditions and stories of winter solstice mythos.

\--

“So, you’re telling me,” Jess said seriously, “that it’s three days ‘til Christmas and we’ve all finished shopping and any presents that needed to be shipped have already arrived at their proper destinations?”

“Uhhh, I think so?” Sam answered uncertainly. He turned to Dean who nodded with a shrug.

“And no one feels like they’re about to explode diarrhea or projectile vomit?”

“Yes. We’re good,” Sam said in clipped tones.

“Then hell yes we are put together!” she exclaimed with a round of high-fives. “This might be the first time in my life that I didn’t have to do last minute shopping on Christmas Eve. Never have I felt more like an adult in my life.”

Sam wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in to smother her against his chest, and rested his chin upon her head, “Does this mean we get to relax tonight? No last minute garland to wrap around the stairs or mechanical reindeer for the front lawn?”

“Oh ho, look who’s sounding all high and mighty,” Jess said, voice slightly muffled against his shirt, “Mister No-we-need-a-fresh-wreath-from-the-old-lady-who-lives-two-hours-away.”

Dean, lounging with his feet up on the couch, threw a pretzel at them from his bowl of trail mix, “You’re blocking the tv. Also, I’d like to remind you who did the heavy lifting to keep your Candy Land decoration committee pleased.”

“It’s Candy Cane Lane,” Sam said, finally releasing Jess to pick up Dean’s pretzel.

“No,” Jess corrected gently, “I think he was talking about the committee for Quickies With Castiel In The Garage where all the ‘decorations’ end up on Dean’s face.”

Both of the brothers let out an outraged “JESS” as she cackled.

Dean followed up his exclamation with an offended, “I’ll have you know that I swallowed so you take that back.”

“You’re both awful,” Sam said as Jess laughed harder, “I’m going to put on Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and neither of you are going to talk about kissing nor banging.”

“I’ll let Cas know,” Dean said, already reaching for his phone and pointedly ignoring Jess’ bright smile and Sam’s all-too-meaningful pat on his shoulder. He also ignored the all-too-familiar bubbling of warmth in his chest when Cas let himself in, having attended their nearly nightly Christmas movie viewings for the past week, and the all-too-comforting contentment that spread through him as Sam greeted Cas with a genuine smile.

What he didn’t--couldn’t--ignore was the way Castiel’s face softened upon meeting his eye nor the way he immediately relocated himself to Dean’s side, sitting on the couch with space left between them while continuing to talk to Sam as though he couldn’t resist simply being in Dean’s presence even when there was no chance of sexual give and take.

And Dean finally let himself admit that this was the happiest and most comfortable he had felt in a long time, so he ignored his swelling panic and shifted, letting his fingers tap dance across Cas’ lower back to curl against his far hip before tugging him closer.

Cas paused mid-sentence and turned away from Sam to look at Dean with mild uncertainty; they’d never done anything in front of Sam and Jess. Sure, Dean had flirted and made plenty of references to what they got up to when alone, and it’s not like either of them had ever denied anything when Sam and Jess would tease and prod and insinuate. But openly cuddling on the couch was miles away from a casual grope and Dean could feel his insecurities flare to life, but he tamped down his instinct to abort! abort! turn it lewd! and instead gave Cas a small smile of encouragement. Castiel returned it and scooted over the remaining distance, hand settling to rest on Dean’s thigh. Sam--and Dean swore he’d make one of his New Year’s resolutions to cut back on teasing his little brother--drew Cas back into their conversation without missing a beat before putting on the movie and dimming the lights.

\--

It was nine a.m. Christmas morning and Dean Winchester was standing on Castiel’s porch in gym shorts and a barely zipped up hoodie over his bare chest.

“Jess got Sam a puppy and now they’re making sex eyes at each other,” Dean greeted, “also, nice sweater and merry Christmas.”

“Yes, family,” Castiel offered, looking down at the horrifying neon green reindeer sweater one of his cousins had gifted him and how it oddly matched his pale red checkered boxers.

He startled slightly when Dean’s fingers touched his face, pushing his chin up to meet his eyes. “I said ‘merry Christmas’,” Dean admonished lightly before his serious expression collapsed into a joking grin, the warmth of which was soon pressed against Castiel’s own sleepy smile. He pulled Dean inside, shutting the door on the chill-but-still-sunny winter morning.

“I hope,” Dean asked between kisses, “I didn’t wake you.”

“No, I opened presents along with family on skype,” he rubbed his eyes, “east coast time.”

“Aww, poor baby,” Dean teased, slipping his hand under the hem of Castiel’s sweater to leech the heat from his skin.

Castiel kissed him harder in retaliation, only realizing he’d been slowly pushing Dean towards his stairs when the other man stumbled on the first step. “Sorry,” Castiel choked out as Dean sucked kisses just below his ear, “I think, maybe--”

“Up?” Dean interrupted.

“Yes.”

\--

Dean had never been in Cas’ room and he while he’d have loved the chance to snoop, at the moment the photos on the nightstand and the quilt hanging on the wall were the furthest things from his mind. Instead he marveled at how cool and soft the sheets on Cas’ bed felt clutched in his hands and especially against his overheated back and distantly he was aware that the bedroom air was nearly as chill as outside, but none of that mattered when his body was on fire and Cas was stoking the flames with his tongue and scissoring fingers.

Dean was pretty sure that Cas would’ve gladly spent the morning licking and spreading him open, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted so much more and he was growing certain that if Castiel didn’t move on then Dean would never make it to the next stage. “Cas,” he gasped, fingers scrabbling to tug on his shoulders, “C’mere. C’mere.” Cas obliged and Dean pulled him in for a bruising kiss, barely registering him fumble with the condom in his periphery.

Cas’ push in was smooth, Dean’s body opening up for him with little resistance. They shifted together with Cas pulling their hips flush and Dean pulling his knees up. He reveled in the pressure of Cas inside him and didn’t even bother trying to bite back his groans and whimpers, loving the way Cas took it as encouragement, thrusting harder to get him to moan louder, faster to make him longer.

He gasped with each thrust and each breath he forgot to exhale narrowed his senses to a point of pure sensation and he held onto that edge for as long as possible before gasping out and gulping in air, starting the cycle over. He thrived on Cas’ low grunts and heavy breathing and the sound of their skin slapping together. But Dean’s whole body itched with the need for release and he was simultaneously grateful and overwhelmed when Cas’ hand wrapped around his dripping cock quick and perfect and Dean arched off the bed as his whole body clenched in pleasure.

He was dimly aware of Cas’ choked off groan, the way he folded Dean’s legs closer to his chest and slammed in faster with an almost desperate edge before stilling with a shuddering breath and indulging in a few more stuttering thrusts before he slipped out and collapsed next to Dean.

Cas muttered something unintelligible into his pillow as Dean wiped his stomach off with a tissue from the nightstand. “Hmmmm?” Dean hummed, not really willing to ruin his afterglow with the effort of word formation.

“I said,” Cas whispered, turning his head to face Dean, a defeated sort of sadness on his face--and Dean was pretty sure he knew what was coming--”when are you leaving?”

And they hadn’t talked about this even once in the weeks they’d been trading hand jobs and blowies between putting up endless decorations. Of course he’d thought about it, casually, ever since their conversation in the car about people watching and traveling, but thinking about it casually and saying it out loud were two very different things. He looked at Cas and noticed how the other man wouldn’t meet his eyes, staring resolutely at the tattoo on his chest.

Dean didn’t like it.

Didn’t like the way their post-coital haze had been so quickly cleared.

Didn’t like that there was a very real chance this would be the only time he’d have in Cas’ bed.

Didn’t like the idea of seeing Cas next Christmas without having seen him all the days in between.

So Dean said it out loud, “Look, you said you telecommute, right? And I can’t promise you’ll enjoy it, but as long as you can work off your phone or survive between motels I can take you on a proper American road trip full of petrified forests, mystery spots, and shitty diners. I mean, I guess we can stop by Mount Rushmore and I still haven’t been to the Grand Canyon, but everything in between, too.”

“I don’t know how to drive stick,” Cas stated, propping himself up on one arm to hover over Dean.

“That’s alright, my baby’s an automatic.”

“I tend to fall asleep on long car rides.”

“I’ll force you to learn the lyrics to all my music.”

“Okay,” Cas smiled, wrapping himself around Dean and sucking kisses under his jaw. “Yes, but someone’s going to have to take care of my lawn and check my mail.”

“I think,” he murmured into Castiel’s hair as he sucked bruises along Dean’s collar bone, “I might have a solution for that problem. Y’see, I think I might have an in with your neighbors, what with their being my relatives and all.”

Cas suddenly sat up, knees bracketing Dean’s waist. “Do you think,” he asked, pensive, “that Sam and Jess have finished having sex? Because I’d like to meet their puppy.”

Dean, laughing, shoved Cas off of him and flipped their positions, “No,” he said in feigned irritation, “because we’re not done having sex and this time I’m going to ride you into your mattress and when we’re good and done we’re going to lay there quietly and actually bask in the post-coital bliss and maybe catch a few z’s and then we can go over and meet the puppy.”

“I think I forgot to say,” Cas said, beaming as he pulled Dean close, lips meeting softly, “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah~! Done. Thanks a lot for reading, even if it's terribly out of season at this point. 
> 
> I've always wanted to do a Dean/Cas roadtrip!au and part of me thinks that maybe this is the verse to do it in.  
> If anyone has something they'd like to see (e.g. I really want to do a scene where they're driving through Oregon & try to pump their own gas or something dumb like that) then let me know! Especially if it's stuff like "Hey, wtf is an actual mystery spot."
> 
> Though no promises on WHEN I'd actually write that shit. Again, thanks a ton for reading~


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